


Aftermath

by emn1936



Series: The Aftermath Series [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emn1936/pseuds/emn1936
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everyone had breathed a sigh of relief and shared laughter that bordered on the maniacal; that was when the real work began and the crew became intimately familiar with the old Earth expression "no rest for the weary"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After the warp core had been ejected and detonated and the Enterprise had successfully broken free of the gravitational pull of the singularity that had absorbed the Narada; after everyone had breathed a sigh of relief and shared laughter that bordered on the maniacal; that was when the real work began and the crew of the Enterprise became intimately familiar with the old Earth expression "no rest for the weary".

Bedlam reigned supreme.

Sickbay, already at capacity with the survivors of Vulcan and crewmembers injured during the Narada's initial attack, was quickly swamped with new injuries sustained when the Enterprise had violently quaked under its proximity to the singularity and the force of being blasted forward by the warp core explosion. With Dr. Puri gone, McCoy and his remaining staff raced from one patient to the next, determining which injuries could wait and which ones could not. McCoy pulled Christine Chapel away from triage and gave her a low-voiced warning.

"Do me a favor, Chris?"

"Of course, Doctor. What do you need?"

"Keep an eye on the supplies, especially the pain killers and antibiotics." McCoy rubbed a weary hand over the back of his neck. "The Enterprise shipped out before it was fully fitted out and we just don't have the supplies necessary to handle so many patients."

Christine took a look around at the dozen or more patients lined up waiting to be seen. She knew there were more waiting in the hall outside of Sickbay and could only imagine that there were still others who had not yet made their way down for treatment. She swallowed hard and turned back.

"We've got a good supply of basic analgesics," she told him.

"Yeah." He ran a comforting hand over her arm. "Let's save the strong stuff for patients like Captain Pike."

Christine nodded in agreement. "Yes, Doctor. I'll pass the word along to the rest of the staff," she promised as the two returned to work.

***************

The young crew who had until now performed admirably, began to show stress cracks as they quickly became overwhelmed by the sheer tonnage of work and responsibility being heaped on their as yet untested shoulders. Damage reports filtered to the bridge, often conveyed by voices bordering on panic and hysteria.

Listening to one report after another stream over the comm system, James Kirk rubbed a thumb against the headache brewing behind his eyes and carefully levered himself out of the command chair, his body singing with the multiple aches and pains now making themselves known. He braced a hand against the back of the chair until he felt steady on his feet and turned to the communications station.

"Uhura, do you have a list of the damage reports?"

"Yes, sir." Uhura rose and handed Kirk a data pad filled with the information she had compiled over the last hour. Kirk quickly scrolled through the data and used the stylus to check off half a dozen items.

"Mr. Spock," he called as he continued to work on the PADD.

"Captain?" The Vulcan First Officer turned away from his monitors to eye the younger man.

"I'm sending this information to your station," Kirk told him as he continued to scribble additional notes onto the data pad. "I think we need to split it up." He looked up to find Spock nodding his head in agreement. "If you'll coordinate repairs for everything other than the ones I've highlighted, I'll head down and see if I can get a better handle on what's going on with these," he said, reeling off the decks where the worst damage had taken place.

Spock found he was again surprised by the logic of Kirk's reasoning and swiftly summoned a crewmember to his side to help begin coordinating the repairs assigned to him.

"The bridge is yours, Mr. Spock." And with that, Kirk took it upon himself to roam from deck to deck, shoring up people's confidence, getting a first-hand look at the damage and bolstering the repair crews. The sight of the poised young man moving purposely through the corridors filled the crew with a renewed resolve and energy.

Over the better part of the day, he and Spock stayed in close contact, meeting several times in the captain's ready room to go over their notes and what could realistically be accomplished as they limped home, what could get by with a patch job and what would have to wait. Kirk had dragged Scotty out of Engineering long enough to have him sit with them and bring them up to speed on his department. Their meeting lasted well over an hour and Kirk watched with tired eyes as the older man finally left the room.

Kirk consulted his PADD and gulped what had to be his twelfth cup of coffee in as many hours. His nervous system jangled with caffeine and the beginnings of an adrenaline crash. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and felt his eyes drift closed against his will.

"Captain," Spock called quietly. "Jim."

Kirk's head jerked up at the sound of his name being called.

"Yeah, um…" He rubbed his eyes and picked up his coffee, grimacing at the now-cold contents of the cup.

"Ugh." He forced down the swallow and set the cup aside. "It sounds like Scotty's got things as under control down there as we could hope." He glanced down at his notes. "Environmental and Life Support are both in good shape, and –"

"Captain," Spock interrupted. "Clearly, you are fatigued."

Kirk settled back in his chair and blew out a long breath. "Aren't you?" he asked curiously. He studied the other man's face carefully. Spock displayed none of the common symptoms of fatigue, though Kirk thought there was tightness about his jaw and a rigidity to his posture that seemed forced, even for a Vulcan.

Spock simply cocked his head to one side and stared at him and Kirk fought the urge to squirm under the Vulcan's calm gaze.

"I just… I mean after everything that's gone on in the last -" He bit off his words awkwardly.

"Vulcans can forgo sleep for quite some time, even during periods of extreme stress," Spock said in a toneless acknowledgment of the events of the last day.

Kirk drummed his fingers on the table. He had come into close and painful contact with the unleashed emotions of two versions of this man and he thought it unlikely that Spock was not feeling any ill-effects from both the physical and emotional toll of the day.

"Fascinating." He bit back a grin at the surprised look that crossed the other man's face and pushed himself to his feet.

"Since you're half human, I'm going to assume that you do require more sleep than the average Vulcan." Kirk pressed his hands into the small of his back and arched his spine in a long stretch. "Let's get a duty roster going and start rotating people off-duty."

He let out a low groan as he felt several vertebrae pop into place. "Where is your father?" he asked suddenly.

Spock seemed disconcerted by the abruptness of the change in topic and hesitated for a long moment before responding.

"He is resting in my quarters," he finally said.

Kirk stifled a huge yawn behind his hand. "I'm going to find someplace to crash," he said. "Then I want you find me so that I can relieve you in no more than five hours." He bit back another yawn. "I can wait if you'd like to stop by and check on your father first," he offered.

He could see by the pinched look around the corners of Spock's eyes that his behavior had once again confused the other man.

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary," Spock replied slowly. "I would not wish to interrupt my father's meditation.

Kirk nodded once and then began gathering up his notes. "No more than five hours," he reminded Spock. "If necessary, consider it an order," he threatened as he stepped out of the room and onto the bridge.

"Sulu. Uhura." He beckoned both crewmembers toward him. "I'd like you to work with Mr. Spock on creating a duty roster, giving everyone initially at least six hours of rest." He eyed each of them closely, taking note of the livid bruise on Sulu's cheek and the ginger manner in which he moved, as well as the dark circles under Uhura's eyes.

"Don't spend too much time on it," he said. "And don't be martyrs. I want you both off-duty within the hour. Find your replacements and get them up here," he ordered. His expression softened and he put a hand on each of their shoulders. "You did good today. Or yesterday. Whatever. I've lost track of time."

He turned to face the rest of the bridge crew and raised his voice. "You all performed well," he said making eye contact with each member of the crew. "No one could have asked for more. Thank you."

He touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute before stepping into the turbolift.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk moaned quietly as someone shook him awake. Five hours could not possibly have passed so quickly, he thought.

"Kirk. Come on, wake up." A hushed female voice called his name persistently until he reluctantly dragged his eyes open.

"Uhura?" he asked sleepily. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Get up," she insisted. "You can't sleep here."

'Here' was a small sofa located in an alcove just outside the crew quarters.

"Yes, I can," he protested. "See?" He closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into the cushions.

"You can't possibly be comfortable." She eyed the way his long limbs were folded up like a pretzel to accommodate the confines of the small space.

"Comfortable enough to sleep," he mumbled into a pillow. "Go away."

"Kirk." Her hand jiggled his shoulder again. "For God's sake! You're the Acting Captain of this ship," she hissed. "You can't sleep out here like a hobo."

Kirk rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes. "Unless you're offering to share your bed," he muttered dangerously, "then this is exactly where I'm going to sleep."

"But -"

"Stowaways aren't assigned crew quarters." He reminded her of his initial status on the ship. He lowered his arm and his gaze was blurred with fatigue and the remnants of a concussion suffered on the Narada. He rubbed his hand fretfully over his forehead.

"Now, go away," he repeated and closed his eyes determinedly against the headache raging behind them. "And yes, in case you're wondering, that was an order." Annoyed, he rolled to face the back of the sofa, forgetting to move carefully and could not stifle the pained exclamation that escaped his throat.

"Hey." Her hand was gentle this time when she laid it on his shoulder and urged him onto his back. "I know where there's a bed with your name on it."

He sighed, resignation painted across his face. "Help me up."

She wrapped an arm around his back and helped lever him into a seated position. He winced and she just barely caught his whispered 'damn it' before he pushed himself to his feet.

He swept a hand out before him. "Please. Lead the way," he said, polite sarcasm coating his words as he followed her toward the closest turbolift. "Just so you know," he said as he leaned against the wall of the turbolift, "I have less than four hours before I have to report back on duty." He closed his eyes. "And I was perfectly comfortable on that sofa," he said petulantly.

"You're an idiot who should have checked himself into Sickbay hours ago."

"Hey!" His eyes popped open. "Is that any way to speak to your commanding officer?" he asked in an aggrieved tone.

Uhura rolled her eyes, grateful when the doors hissed open on G Deck and Sickbay.

A tired looking Christine Chapel looked up from the medical chart in her hands when they stepped through the door.

"Which one of you… Never mind." She took one look the bruises marring Kirk's face and stepped toward him.

"Why don't you come over here and lie down for a bit?" she suggested as she guided him toward an empty biobed.

He perched on the edge of the bed. "Where's Bones?"

"Dr. McCoy went off duty about forty minutes ago," Christine told him as her fingers danced over the controls to boot up the biofunction monitor. "Give me just a minute and I'll get him for you."

Kirk's hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. "Don't wake him," he protested. "I know it's been non-stop insanity down here and this is probably the first time he's been off his feet since we boarded." He flashed his most charming smile. "I'm fine. All I need are a couple of painkillers and a few hours of sleep."

Christine gently pushed him onto his back and took a cursory look at the initial readout displayed on the overhead monitor. "Mmm-hmmm," she drawled as she entered a few notations onto the electronic chart in her hands. She looked up, her tone of voice that of crisp, efficient, take no bull nurses the universe over.

"Captain, if I let you go without the doctor seeing you… well, let's just say, I've spent an extraordinarily long day listening to him rant and rave at others and I'd just as soon not have those rants directed at me. So, if it's all the same with you, I'm going to wake him."

Jim closed his eyes and waved a hand in surrender. He heard her leave the room and cracked open one eye to assess his chances of escape. His gaze landed on Uhura who seemed to be standing guard at the door and he flashed his most innocent smile before closing his eye again.

A few moments later, he could hear Nurse Chapel leading a grumbling Leonard McCoy toward him.

"What the hell have you done to yourself this time?" McCoy approached the bed and though his expression and tone were fierce, his hand was gentle as he wrapped it around Kirk's wrist so that he could feel his patient's pulse at the same time he checked it on the monitor.

McCoy turned and gestured toward Christine who handed him a medical tricorder.

"It's not that bad," Kirk protested. "Really."

"Bad enough," he grumbled as he studied the readings flashing across the tricorder's screen. "You should have been here hours ago," he said.

Kirk's gaze darted towards Uhura as the doctor unconsciously repeated her earlier admonishment and she bared her teeth in a teasing sneer. Convinced that she was fighting the childish urge to stick her out tongue at him, Kirk grinned impishly before returning his attention to the doctor.

"Bones." He tried catching the older man's gaze. "Hey, Bones!" he said sharply. "I really couldn't get here sooner, you know?"

McCoy's head dipped in a less than gracious acknowledgment that Kirk had more important matters to attend to in the immediate aftermath of their escape from the singularity.

"And, it's really not that bad," Kirk continued to defend himself.

McCoy grunted, reluctant to concede the other man's point, despite the fact that the readings on the tricorder indicated that his friend had suffered no life-threatening injuries.

"Here," he said as he slipped one arm behind Kirk and braced the other on his chest. "Can you sit up?" He guided Kirk up and then turned to pull an equipment tray closer. "Let's get this shirt off so that we can see what's going on under there." He gestured toward Nurse Chapel.

Christine stepped forward to help pull the shirt over Kirk's head but stopped immediately when a hiss of pain escaped him. She drew his arms back down to his sides, reached for a pair of medical scissors and neatly split the front of his black shirt up the middle and then carefully, gently, helped him ease his arms out of the material.

Uhura pressed two fingers over her mouth as the full extent of Kirk's injuries were revealed and even McCoy seemed nonplussed at the sheer number of bruises, contusions and lacerations which were exposed. Kirk's torso was covered in varying hues ranging from deep blue and purple to an angry looking yellow and green and possibly a few colors in between.

 

"Wow!" McCoy whistled. "This is impressive, even for you."

"Thanks," Kirk smirked tiredly as he glanced down at himself. "Really. I have to agree. This is some of my best work."

The two men shared a quick grin even as McCoy raised a hand to give the other man a gentle thump on the back of the head.

"Let's go through it, shall we?" McCoy nodded toward the chart in Christine's hands. "Nurse Chapel, if you'd be so kind as to take notes?"

"Of course, Doctor."

"We'll take it from the top, shall we?" McCoy asked in a falsely chipper voice. "How'd you get the concussion?"

"Um, probably the butt of a Romulan rifle to the head."

McCoy grunted in response and gently ran the tips of his fingers through Kirk's hair until he found the swollen lump just above the ear. "I guess being thick-headed isn't always a bad thing," he grumbled then tipped Kirk's head back to study the necklace of bruises on his throat.

"Well, I don't need to ask where these came from," he said as he peered closely at the damage to Kirk's neck. "Pointy eared bastard," he muttered then winced at the sound of Uhura's gasped protest. "Sorry." He turned to face the communications officer with an apologetic smile.

"Bones." Kirk made a 'tsking' sound and drew the doctor's attention back to him. "Bones, Bones, Bones. You simply don't give me enough credit."

McCoy took a step back and propped his hands on his hips. "I don't? Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me."

"If you knew the sheer number of people who have wanted to strangle me… well, just ask Uhura." Kirk nodded toward the woman standing near the door. "She's wanted to get her hands on me for years now," he confided in an overly-loud whisper to Chapel. "And not in a good way, if you know what I mean." He shook his head mournfully.

"Haven't you?" He threw a laughing glance at Uhura who rolled her eyes for form's sake, before returning his attention to the exasperated doctor.

"In addition to Spock…" He pointed to the finger-shaped bruises encircling his neck. "Nero and his Number One." Kirk lifted supplicating hands. "I don't know what it is," he said with a puzzled look on his face. "Maybe it's that's common ancestry between the Vulcans and Romulans that Spock mentioned, but for whatever reason, there seems to be something about me that makes people of pointed eared races want to strangle me."

Christine barked out a laugh and even McCoy was hard-pressed to hide a smile. Kirk's irreverent humor did more to allay the physician's worries about the young captain's health than all the biosensors in Starfleet.

"Alright," McCoy said as he rearranged his face into its usual stern lines. "Did you dislocate your shoulder?" he asked as he studied the tricorder.

"No."

"You've got a lot of damage to the tendons and ligaments here." He traced careful fingers over the area, testing for swelling.

"Might have happened when I was dangling off the drill over Vulcan," Jim mused.

Uhura closed her eyes against the image that popped into her mind.

"Or…" Jim scratched his cheek contemplatively. "Maybe one of the times I was hanging off a ramp on the Narada…"

"You know what?" McCoy interrupted his ruminations. "It's not important how it happened!" He clapped a hand over his eyes. "God Almighty," he sighed, praying for patience before continuing.

"You've got a couple of cracked ribs."

"Yeah. Let me think… why don't we just pick a time when I got my ass kicked over the last couple of days? Probably happened when Nero was smashing his boots into my side." Jim sighed in pained remembrance. "Oh! And I fell off a mountain on Delta Vega."

"You fell off a mountain?" Uhura asked in disbelief.

"Well… mountain might be a bit of a stretch. Maybe it was just a really big hill. Or, I guess we could call it a cliff…" he mused. "But it had rocks and boulders and I bounced my way down for what felt like a really long time."

"How 'bout you just be quiet for a little while now," McCoy suggested with a long-suffering tone.

Kirk's expression was one of wounded innocence. "You did ask," he reminded his friend.

"Yeah. I remember. But now I don't want to know. I want you to just shut up.

"Fine." Kirk eased himself back down onto the bed and closed his eyes.

McCoy stepped away from the bed and gestured for Christine to accompany him.

"Let's give him 4 cc's of Trianoline for the concussion."

Christine nodded as she unlocked the cabinet housing the drugs and began to load a hypospray with the recommended dosage.

"And let's give him 2 cc's of Morphenolog for the pain and an antibiotic because some of those lacerations look like they're already infected."

Christine looked up sharply. "I thought we were saving the heavy duty stuff for Captain Pike and the others who are seriously injured."

"We are," he agreed. "But…" McCoy drew her away and lowered his voice. "I know him and he's hiding a lot of pain from us. The performance he just gave was partly to alleviate my concern and even more so, an effort to distract us so that we don't fight him when he goes back on duty before I'm willing to release him. The shot will knock him out and we won't have to waste time chasing him down and dragging him back here."

Christine glanced over McCoy's shoulder and saw a grimace contort Kirk's face as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. She nodded resolutely and filled a second hypospray with the painkiller before handing both to the doctor.

McCoy approached the bed and laid a hand on Kirk's good shoulder.

"Jim," he called.

Kirk rolled his head toward the doctor and opened his eyes.

"I'm going to give you a couple of shots," McCoy told him.

Jim grimaced and lifted a protective hand to the still sore spot where McCoy had jabbed him numerous times only a day earlier.

"One is a pretty strong painkiller – it's going to knock you out."

"For how long?"

"Let's just say that this time tomorrow you'll be well-rested."

"No."

"Jim -"

"Bones. No. I have to be back on duty to relieve Spock in a few hours. I can't be out that long. The ribs are the worst – just fix them and give me something to take the edge off the pain."

"Jim." McCoy laid a restraining hand on the center of the other man's chest as he started to rise from the bed. "Listen to me. The osteo-regenerator isn't working. All of the computers down here went off-line at one point and that one hasn't come back up." He leaned closer.

"I can't fix the ribs until we get home. The best I can do is give you a really strong painkiller – and that's gonna put you out."

"Just wrap them."

"Wrapping does nothing," McCoy retorted. "Your body will heal faster with proper rest."

"Everyone is exhausted, Bones," Kirk countered. "Everyone needs to rest. Including Spock – though he'll tell you differently." His gaze sought out McCoy's. "You and I both know he's been through more than the rest of us, Bones." Kirk lowered his voice. "I can't expect him to manage alone while I sleep away the next twenty-four hours."

"Besides," he continued. "With Pike incapacitated and Spock technically having rescinded command… I can't spend a day knocked out on painkillers. And who the hell else are we going to put in that chair besides me or Spock for the next couple of days?"

McCoy grudgingly acquiesced. "Change the dosage to 10 cc's of Terakine for the ribs and general aches and pains," he instructed Christine. Taking the hypo from the nurse, he turned back to Kirk and shook the hypo in his face. "I want you to stay right here and rest until you're due back on the bridge," he ordered. "Don't let me catch you sneaking out a moment earlier."

Despite the threatening gesture, he administered the shot with gentle hands. "You should feel relief from the pain shortly," he told the younger man. "You'll be able to sleep but you won't be so drugged by this that you can't function when you need to."

"Yeah, yeah." Kirk made a shooing motion with one hand. "Go back to bed, Bones."

McCoy looked at his friend with annoyed affection. Grousing something about thick-headed wanna-be captains under his breath, he made his way to his office to settle down on the cot in there. "Come get me if you need me, Christine," he called.

Kirk shifted on the bed, seeking a comfortable position and caught sight of Uhura still hovering near the door.

"You don't have to stand guard," he assured her. "I promise, no more sleeping in the halls."

Her lips twitched with a quickly concealed smile. "You better not," she warned.

"Hey, Uhura." He crooked his fingers to beckon her closer.

"Yes?" She drifted to his side.

"You'll… umm…" He blinked at her owlishly, fatigue and pain written clearly on his face. He shook his head to clear it. "Promise that you'll make sure that Spock comes to get me and goes off duty himself in a few hours," he yawned. "I don't care what he says, he needs to rest. That goes for you too."

Unable to resist the lure of sleep, his head lolled to one side as the medication worked its magic.

Uhura gently lifted a blanket from the foot of the bed. Drawing it up to his chest, she wondered how she had gone from the rage she had felt at his provocation of Spock just hours earlier to finding herself filled with such exasperated affection for him now.

She brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead.

"Sleep well. Captain," she whispered. "You've earned it too."

End

A/N: That's it. With an ending more sappy than I had intended but what came out despite my best efforts. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
